


THE WARRIOR'S REST

by alinewrites



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Future, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4853432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alinewrites/pseuds/alinewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>15 years later... Arthur is back to Camelot where Merlin has been waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	THE WARRIOR'S REST

It was snowing already – winter was coming early this year. A heavy layer of snow covered the land , making the landscape uncertain, muffling the sounds, but Merlin heard them as they were riding past the drawbridge. Back at last. He put down the book he was studying and strained to hear the weary rising trot of a dozen worn stallions. He could picture the heavy stance of the knights, the way they fell back into the saddle with each stride. He heard the jangling of arms and armours as they dismounted, the weigh of their bodies when they hit the ground at last; and the grooms talking as they led the horses back to the stables.

He heard him then and his heart started pounding painfully in his chest. He heard his footsteps up the stairs, his fast beating heart, his harsh breath. Arthur. He heard the familiar clatter of the armour falling to the floor of the room below piece after piece as he got rid of it – no manservant today; he was too tired to call for one. It reminded Merlin of the times when serving him had wounded his pride so badly. When he had wanted to be known for what he was.

Those times were gone. Fifteen years since Uther's death and youth was already a long forgotten state. One to cherish, one to regret, one to yearn for.

Merlin was known now for being a powerful wizard, maybe the most powerful of all, and feared as such. Hated even by some among those he had helped. Men, women, averted their gazes, avoided him, spied on him and whispered low in his wake – his powers had grown frightening.

The door creaked as a body leaned heavily against it, the noise rousing him from his daydream. He rushed to the door and yanked it open. The King made a rule not coming in unannounced, maybe for fear of what he might see, maybe out of respect for his friend, Merlin was not certain. The only thing that mattered was that Arthur was back and alive.

"Arthur," he said as the man walked in, his hair damp with the sweat of a whole month spent fighting in the depths of the Cornwall hills. "I thought I heard you."

Arthur only smiled tiredly and sat down on a chair. Grabbing a goblet, Merlin filled it with mulled wine, his hand trembling.

"Fighting by such weathers should be forbidden," Arthur said, watching as Merlin crouched by the chimney where the neglected fire had died– flames leaped high and bright immediately, a slight breach of the "no magic in my presence" rule but Arthur was much too tired to notice anyway. "Where you worried?" he asked, his voice heavy already, yawning.

"I always am, as you very well know. Why do you ask?"

Arthur laughed. "I like to hear it."

"Fine; I said it. Now – bed."

Arthur rose unsteadily from the chair, took a deep breath and shook his head. "Sleep with me tonight. I want you."

Merlin froze. That was unexpected; he had thought his king too tired for sex. And that came at a very inopportune moment; he was in the middle of a very complicated experiment...

Merlin braced himself and opened his mouth to refuse – it was the right thing to do, Arthur needed sleep and he needed some more hours to finalize his work. Then his eyes met Arthur's gaze and he sighed. He would never be able to resist the look in these eyes; wounded and imperious, vulnerable and commanding. It seemed like he had spent his life under this gaze. What was a four-days work compared to it, he thought resignedly. He would start again later.

As he walked down the uneven stairs to Arthur's apartments, Merlin wondered if he had written down every step of the experiment with enough care so that he could start again where he had left it – he nearly bumped into Arthur and looking up saw the annoyed expression on the King's face.

"You do not have to say yes if you do not want to, Merlin. I would be so sorry to deprive you from your beloved solitude in the cold and the darkness of your laboratory , really I would. Just say it if you prefer to sleep up there."

Merlin took a deep breath and forced himself back to the present. Shaking his head he smiled again and continued his descent, worming himself between Arthur and the cold wall – the staircase was narrow and their bodies touched. Merlin was grabbed and pressed against the stones, strong hands keeping him still. Arthur looked himself deep into his eyes, wary. The longer the parting, Merlin as he surrendered to the questing gaze, the harder the reunion. There was something left of Arthur's old repulsion for magic and at Court some still propagated rumours of an enchantment – certainly Merlin had cast a spell on the king. How else to explain the King's unnatural attraction for the powerful dubious sorcerer?

Merlin waited until the expression on Arthur's face softened and the body pressing against his own was only tense with desire, not suspicion. Arthur's smile was youthful and warmed; Merlin smiled back and together they walked across the hall.

A servant had already lit the fire; the room smelled of pine, flames were crackling happily. The bed had been warmed and there was a nightshirt carefully spread out on the sheets.

After a quick wash, Arthur sat on the bed and started to disrobe. Too slow, too clumsy; Merlin helped. They were silent, their breaths low and raspy. Arthur's skin was cold and bruised; his arms wore marks and welts; that spoke of ferocious fights and dangerous opponents. Merlin gritted his teeth in anger against those who had dared… And then calmed down. Anger was not what Arthur needed. Making his own hands soothing, he helped him out of the remaining clothes.

The king of Camelot, soon king of Albion, had gained muscles and strength in fifteen years. His golden hair had darkened slightly but his eyes had kept the same brightness, his moves the same swiftness. He was still impatient. He pulled off the boots and threw them across the room. "What," he said, "Are you going to stay dressed?"

As Merlin took off the warm cloak, the tunic, the trousers and the supple boots, until he was naked, his eyes roamed over older scars on Arthur's back and sides, reminders of wounds that should have been lethal and that magic had cured. Reminders of wars that should have been lost but that magic, and Arthur's courage and intelligence, had turned into victories. Fifteen years spent fighting had turned them into heroes.

"I am back," Arthur said, pushing Merlin back onto the bed. "You are supposed to rejoice."

"I am rejoicing inwardly," Merlin said.

"A little more extroversion would be fine," Arthur added and kissed him hard on the lips.

Tonight was Arthur's night; after the victory that had been announced by a messenger some days ago, he would take what he wanted and Merlin would not protest about his lack of finesse, too short preliminaries or a too rough lovemaking because tonight he wanted to be eaten alive, caressed and fucked into next day and he did not want to see, hear or feel anything or anyone but this man.

Arthur knew Merlin's mood as well as his own - at least in this particular field. He made Merlin wait and beg; he made his hands heavy on Merlin's pale skin, his voice commanding and rough and he entered him with a slow and irresistible single stroke. Opening his eyes, Merlin looked deep into Arthur's soulful gaze. Arching his back he took him deeper, staring at his sensuous mouth that seemed to swell with pleasure and the heavy eyelids slowly closing. "Swear… you don't… Use magic… In bed," Arthur said, and this time it was a joke. "Because it is just too good…"

"I wouldn't, Sire. You are the only magic I want now."

A smile spread slowly on Arthur's mouth and he started moving, pressing his palm against Merlin's lips to smother his cries, moving faster and deeper and harder. Merlin's back stiffened and he bit his lips hard when Arthur gripped his hips, lifting them to thrust into him deeper… they sank into the stormy hot waters of pleasure together, clinging to each other, mouth against mouth, sharing the same breath, their limbs entangled. The descent into the abysses of orgasm felt endless and still too short. When they emerged, they were breathless and unwilling to part…

Later Arthur rose from the bed to put more wood in the fire. The snow was falling harder; a strong wind was beating against the windows of Camelot.

"I wish winter would settle for good. Provide us some welcome rest. Our enemies become more and more daring," Arthur explained, shivering as he pressed himself against the sinewy warm body nested in the bed. "They are stronger and always closer to the borders. Even the magic they use seems to grow stronger, like there is some new powerful force behind it."

Merlin sighed. "The old dark magic is still strong; I am not the only wizard around."

Arthur sighed. "Shall we ever know peace, Merlin? Shall we ever enjoy life as ordinary men do? Sometimes I wish we were just that. Ordinary men burdened with ordinary worries. In times like these I fear that my shoulders are not broad enough to bear such a responsibility."

Merlin clenched his fingers in Arthur's hair and pulled him closer still, until he could feel his breath against the skin of his neck. Closing his eyes, he said, "We are not ordinary men. Camelot is not an ordinary place and we are bound to accomplish whatever destiny is ours. There will be no peace, I am afraid, apart during the few moments we spend together."

"Sometimes you sound like Gaius."

Merlin laughed softly. "You sound more and more often like Uther, Arthur. I assume this is what they would have called getting mature."

He felt Arthur's deep sigh against his chest, felt the muscles of the body against him relax. Arthur was asleep. Merlin could have taken the opportunity to sneak out of the bed and go back to his laboratory but it had been a long lonely month, and soon probably there would be another enemy to fight, or a plague, or a quest to start and he would lose Arthur again. So the experiments would have to wait until Arthur's departure, or at least until Merlin's hunger was satisfied, until he had enough memories, enough embraces and mock quarrels in store to keep sane while Arthur was away.

Closing his eyes, he whispered some words that would made the fire burn for longer than it should and sank into a blissful dreamless sleep.


End file.
